


You know what I need

by KitsuneArashi



Category: Supernatural
Genre: BDSM, Christmas fic, D/s, Dom!Cas, Dom!Castiel, Hurt/Comfort, John Winchester's crappy parenting, M/M, Self Harm References, Spanking, Sub!Dean, Top!Cas, bottom!Dean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-19
Updated: 2016-12-19
Packaged: 2018-09-09 19:25:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,825
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8909062
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KitsuneArashi/pseuds/KitsuneArashi
Summary: Dean hates Christmas with his father, but he still goes, because it's what his father needs. But what about what Dean needs? Sometimes it takes someone else to know just what that is.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This was bouncing around my head all day.

Dean growled under his breath as he walked past yet another festively decorated store. Why every store in the mall needed to be gaily decorated in reds and greens he’d never know, just the same as he’d never know how the people working in the stores could handle the Christmas music all day, every day.  
  
“I can’t wait until Christmas is over.” He muttered darkly, finally finding the store he was after and ducking inside after a quick glance around himself to be sure that no one he knew would see him going into Adult Warehouse.  
  
He was there for a gift for Castiel and he knew exactly what to get already, though he was quickly growing impatient with waiting for the clerk to finish serving the people lined up at the register and opted to wander around the aisles and consider other things as well.  
  
As usual he found himself in the kink section of the store, idly running his hands along the limp leather of the floggers, occasionally lifting one and checking the weight, imagining how they’d feel against his skin.  
  
“Hey there Winchester.” A cheerful voice came from behind him, making him jump and turn around hurriedly.  
  
“About time Garth.” He mumbled, a comfortable smile settling onto his face as the clerk grinned at the flogger in his hands with interest.  
  
“You know how it gets this time of year, busy busy.” Garth’s ever present smile didn’t waver as he switched back into the usual professionalism that he used on customers. “For Cas?” He asked, reaching for the handle of the flogger, gauging the weight.

Dean nodded, embarrassment quickly swallowed up in his need to get the perfect gift for his lover. “What do you think?” He swallowed. “I mean I was only here to get ropes but…” he trailed off, eyeing the flogger thoughtfully. “I was considering moving up from the paddle, I know he’d like to.”  
  
“Well this isn’t really a beginner flogger Dean.” Garth said slowly, already reaching for a smaller one; the leather tresses softer, made of dyed deerskin instead of the harder, less forgiving cowhide. “If he were to start you out on that one you’d bruise quite quickly. Of course, it’s up to you, I’m sure Castiel knows what he’s doing so I’m not really worried about selling it to you.” Garth shrugged, pulling the smaller one off the shelf. “This one though, it’s shorter and softer. You guys should be able to go for a lot longer with less marks, it’d probably sting a lot less as well.”  
  
Dean hummed under his breath, comparing the two. “I don’t know Garth. What about that rope we talked about last time? Did the order come in?”  
  
Garth grinned widely. “Yep! The green looks like it’ll match your eyes perfectly too.”  
  
“I’d hoped it would.” Dean smiled happily, turning to put down the smaller flogger as he followed behind Garth to the register. _Cas knows what he is doing._ He justified, and he knew that Cas would love the thought he’d put into the gifts. _Besides, I can handle it._

Dean dropped Castiel’s gifts off that night when he picked the other man up for dinner. “Now remember Cas,” he grinned as he carefully placed the wrapped parcel under Castiel’s cheerful Christmas tree, “don’t open this until Christmas.”  
  
Castiel rolled his eyes, his whole head and shoulders rolling with the motion in the way Dean loved so much. “I know Dean.”  
  
They went for dinner at an expensive little burger bar they’d once stumbled upon and loved, Dean relishing the fact they allowed for completely customized burger orders, Castiel just loving their double meat cheeseburgers.

“What about my gift Cas?” Dean asked while they waited for their food to be delivered. “Got one for me to take with me or do I have to wait until I get back?”  
  
“You’re going to have to wait, Dean.” Castiel mumbled, avoiding his eye. “It’s not really something I can just send with you to your father’s house.”  
  
Dean’s eyebrows shot up. “Did you get me a kinky gift Cas?” He asked slyly, shooting the dark haired man a wink and a leer.  
  
“Sort of.” Castiel muttered, a light blush coloring his cheeks as he looked away again, leaning back to allow for the approaching waitress to place their food in front of them, effectively cutting off that line of conversation.

  
~~~

  
Christmas eve saw Dean on the road early, starting the four hour trip to his father’s house long before the sun had risen. He didn’t really look forward to seeing his father, but he knew, since it was the first Christmas since Sam had married Eileen and they would be spending it with her family, if he didn’t go then his father would have had no one for the holiday.  
  
It was nearing 9am when he arrived, parking his sleek black ‘67 Impala on the curb outside John Winchester’s shitty apartment building with a sigh. _Merry Fucking Christmas_ he thought bitterly, looking at the run down building and thinking longingly of Cas’ house, cheerfully decorated and smelling of pie.

“Dad?” He called as he knocked, slightly winded from carrying his bag up the three or so flights of stairs to John’s apartment.

“‘Bout time you showed up.” John’s voice bellowed from inside, slightly slurred and clearly already drunk despite the early hour. “S’open. Get in here boy.”  
  
Dean winced slightly and pushed the door open. “Hey dad.” He forced a smile towards where his father lay, sprawled on the couch with a bottle of whiskey tightly grasped in his right hand, already half empty.  
  
“Don’t you ‘hey dad’ me boy.” His father hissed angrily. “It’s Christmas eve, where the fuck have you been?”  
  
Dean struggled not to let his emotions show on his face. “I left at 5am dad. I got here as early as I could.”

John shrugged sloppily, raising the bottle to his lips again. “Whatever.” He mumbled, jabbing the remote at the TV and settling back as the sounds of a hockey game filled the room. “Leas’ you’re here, unlike that other ungrateful son of mine, shut the door boy, you’re letting the cold in.”  
  
Dean swallowed his response and ducked his head, carefully closing the door behind himself as he entered the moldy apartment, already cataloging the cleaning that would need to be done once he had Christmas dinner in the oven for his father. “I’m just going to put my bag up and I’ll start the dishes so I can cook.” He said softly, raising his head to meet his father’s eye, only looking away when his father shrugged carelessly.  
  
Dean hated Christmas with his father. When he was a teenager his mother had died in a car accident and for a while John didn’t even bother with Christmases, often opting to leave and spend the holidays in a bar, leaving Dean at home with his kid brother, Sam. At the time, Dean didn’t mind, happy to have the freedom of an adult-free house over the holidays, though he always felt a bit sad for Sammy, that he didn’t have a mother to flit around the kitchen cooking up a huge Christmas meal.  
  
It didn’t take long for Dean to step into that role, decorating the apartment for the holidays and cooking a Christmas dinner for them to share. One year John had come home early and found the house smelling of roasting meat and pie, Dean had been terrified of his father’s reaction, knowing the man was known for violent mood swings and burning anger. John had simply sniffed the room with a glare before grabbing a bottle of whiskey and locking himself in his room, slamming the door behind him.  
  
Later Dean had timidly knocked, bringing his father a plate of food that he set by the door. They hadn’t seen John emerge from his room that night, however when they got up the next morning the food was gone and the plate sat in the sink.  
  
After they left home Dean and Sam still went to their father’s each year so that the old man wouldn’t be alone, this year though it would just be Dean and John, since Sam had other plans. Dean wasn’t really sure how to take that and he desperately wanted to stay when Cas had extended the invitation, sadness in his voice when he’d told his lover he couldn’t.

“Dad needs me Cas,” he’d said softly, avoiding the man’s eyes, avoiding the look he knew was there that said that Dean needed to worry about what _Dean_ needed.  
  
Castiel had understood, as always, and they’d made arrangements for Dean to be home on the day after Christmas, for them to have their own celebration then. As Dean stood with his hands covered in hot soapy water, washing what seemed to be every dish his father owned while said patriarch snored on the couch, passed out drunk before 10 in the morning, he felt immeasurably lonely and sad.  
  
A bone deep longing for Cas gripped him; for his smiles and light touches, his soft kisses and kind words. Dean realized he was gripping a blade too tightly when he felt the sharp sting of it slicing through his palm. “Shit!” He yelled reflexively dropping the knife with a splash and a thud, pulling his hand out of the water to inspect the damage.  
  
“Are you fucking right there?” John snapped, waking with a start and glowering over the back of the couch at him. “Bleeding all over my floor, can’t you do anything right? Fuck you’re such a fuck up Dean.”  
  
Dean clenched his jaw and pressed his bleeding hand into the flannel shirt he wore, trying to stop the bleeding. “It’s fine, just a scratch.” He mumbled, turning away to finish the dishes, his father’s words ringing in his head.  
  
By the time dinner was ready John had pushed Dean to his limits, waking up occasionally to nitpick and bitch at him, as usual. Dean grit his teeth and bared it when his father told him the meal was sub-par, he held back from responding when John snapped at him that he wished his brother was there and that he hadn’t done enough to make sure Sammy came too. But he eventually found himself standing to clear the table when John started in on how at least Sam was married and that Dean was so good for nothing that he would always be alone.  
  
“I have someone actually.” He ground out as he stuffed the leftovers into his father’s otherwise empty fridge. “Someone who actually wanted me there for Christmas.” But all he could hear echoing in his head was John’s words, telling him how worthless he was, how he should have tried harder to have Sammy there, how he would always be alone.  
  
“Oh?” John snorted. “Who? If you had someone who actually wanted you around, then why are you here bothering me then?”  
  
Something inside Dean snapped and he slammed the fridge closed angrily. “I’ll just go back to him then.” He made to leave the room to collect his bag and leave.  
  
“ _Him_ .” John echoed slowly. “That sounds about right. You being some fag’s bitch.” He brought the whiskey to his lips for another swig as Dean tore it from his grip, throwing the entire bottle at the wall with a crash.  
  
“I’m done.” Dean hissed lowly, stepping into his father’s space with a glare before stalking down the hallway to grab his bag.  
  
The last thing he heard as he left was his father’s curses following him out the door, echoing down the hallway. “He’ll just get bored with you too, you’re not worth it Dean. You don’t know what you need.”  
  
The drive home went in a blur, and before he knew it, Dean found himself sitting outside of Castiel’s house watching the Christmas light’s they’d put up together flashing merrily in the darkness.  
  
His father’s words bounced around his head and he chose to pull away from the curb, opting to head to his own, lonely apartment instead.  
  
Dean sat inside his apartment and carefully cleaned the cut on his palm, relishing in the sting of the antiseptic on the wound. His father’s words ricocheted inside his head, cutting deeper and deeper and suddenly Dean was 15 years old again and the urge to find a blade and carve into his skin was baring down on him.  
  
Self harm helped him through his teen years, every time it felt like the poison of his father’s words was building up, killing him from the inside, he’d take a blade to his arm or thigh and let it out, he’d cut until he felt like the poison was lanced and he could breathe again. Only now… now he felt something holding him back.  
  
The memory of Castiel kissing each scar, eyes sad but so filled with devotion as he did so. The memory of himself, bound to Cas’ bed and unable to do more than beg Castiel not to look, not to touch him so gently, even as Cas caressed and stroked him softly.  
  
He couldn’t cut himself, Castiel would know, and he didn’t want to be more of a fuck up than he already was.  
  
His mind flashed to the gift he’d bought his lover, the heavy flogger he’d so carefully wrapped and placed under Castiel’s tree. A plan began to form and he called Cas.

“Hello Dean.” Dean could hear the smile in his voice as he answered. “How is your father?”  
  
He swallowed. “I’m back home, we had a fight.” There was silence on the other end of the line and Dean’s hands shook nervously.  
  
“Oh. Are you alright?” Cas asked softly, the soft thud of a door closing on the other end of the line. “Do you need me to come over?”  
  
Dean shook his head before remembering that Cas couldn’t see him. “It’s alright Cas, I’m tired. Is tomorrow OK? You still wanna spend Christmas with me?”  
  
“Of course I do!” Dean could almost _hear_ Cas rolling his eyes as he answered. “Come around whenever you want to.”  
  
“OK Cas.” Dean smiled into the phone, already feeling a little better. “Tomorrow.”  
  
“Goodnight Dean.” Castiel replied softly.

 

~~~

 

The next morning Dean was anxious, he changed his clothes several times and fussed over his hair. Finally deciding he looked good enough he made the short drive to Cas’ house.

Cas answered the door with a smile. “Dean!” He exclaimed happily, pulling him into his arms and pressing their lips together softly. “I’m glad you’re here.”  
  
They opted to have breakfast before tackling the gifts below the tree, Dean was curious to see another box sitting under the tree beside the gifts he’d placed there. A smallish box wrapped in gold paper leaned innocuously against the base and Dean knew that was Cas’ gift for him.

His curiosity took a back seat when Cas finally sat down on the couch, ready to open gifts. “Mine first.” Dean said suddenly, reaching for the parcel he knew contained the cowhide flogger and ropes he’d purchased.  
  
Cas raised an eyebrow at the sudden order but nodded, happily accepting it from Dean with a small “Thank you.”  
  
Dean held his breath while Castiel opened it, letting it out in a huff when Cas’ surprised face morphed into one of _want_ and he looked at Dean from under his lashes. “A flogger Dean?” He asked, voice dropping into that low tone that made Dean’s dick perk up and sent him scurrying to follow Cas’ every command. “Do you want me to flog you?”  
  
Dean swallowed and nodded dumbly squeezing his eyes closed, he took a deep breath and snapped them open, meeting Cas’ gaze with determination. “Please, Sir. Please flog me.”  
  
Castiel’s pupils dilated and he sucked in a breath through his mouth, grip tightening on the flogger in his lap. “Why?” He asked completely oozing composure.  
  
“Why?” Dean repeated blankly. “Because I want you to?”  
  
Castiel stood suddenly and Dean flinched unconsciously. “So you want me to use this beautiful rope you bought me,” he ran the bundle of soft cording across the back of Dean’s neck gently, “to tie you down while I use this,” he flicked the flogger suddenly causing Dean to jump as it hit the couch beside him with a thud, “to flog you?” Castiel’s voice was low and gravelly and there was no hiding the arousal the thoughts of doing just that was making him feel, Dean could see the growing bulge in his lover’s pants as he came to stand in front of him. “Is that right Dean?”  
  
Dean swallowed and nodded desperately, eyeing the flogger in Castiel’s hand.  
  
“I’d like you to answer me properly, Dean.” Castiel snapped, voice hard in the way he knew Dean loved.  
  
“Yes.” Dean licked his lips, eyes flicking between Cas and the flogger nervously. “Please hurt me, Cas. Make me bleed, bruise me.”  
  
Castiel raised a surprised brow and stepped backwards. “No.”  
  
“What?” Dean gaped.  
  
“I won’t hurt you Dean.” Castiel dropped the rope and flogger onto the coffee table and stood his ground.  
  
“You… what?” Dean closed his mouth with a snap, humiliation rising in him and before he knew what he was doing he’d leaped to his feet, clenching his fists angrily, reveling in the burn of the wound on his left palm. “Why the fuck not? You like hurting me.” He snapped, stepping way too close to Cas and taking pleasure in the way Cas, his lover, his _Dom_ made to step back before schooling his features and standing his ground.  
  
“You think I don’t know how much the thought of using that flogger aroused you Cas?” He snarled, staring angrily into Cas’ deep blue eyes, trying to ignore the flash of hurt he saw there as he spat the venomous words at the other man. “I know you get off on hurting me you sick fuck, so why won’t you do it when I fucking need you to?”  
  
Cas flinched at Dean’s words, but otherwise stood his ground. “Because it isn’t what you need right now.”  
  
“I think I fucking know what I need Cas.” Dean snapped, stepping backwards. “If you won’t be it, then I’m leaving.”  
  
Cas looked like he’d be slapped. “What?”  
  
“You heard me. I have no use for you if you won’t step up and be a fucking man.” Dean stepped around him and stalked to the door without looking back, he slammed the door behind him finally looking back at Cas as he did so, the man hadn’t moved, he stood frozen in the middle of the room, head bowed.  
  
“Fuck!” Dean growled angrily, slamming his hands onto his steering wheel as he drove the well known roads between his apartment and Cas’ house, he winced and pulled his left hand close to his chest as pain shot up his arm. “Fucking fuck!”  
  
Dean had barely made it inside his front door when he broke. Falling to his knees with a wordless yell, slamming his fists into the ground angrily. His dad was right, Cas was bored with him and all he’d done is push him away that much faster. _He was such a goddamned fuck up._

Dean wasn’t sure how long he sat there on the cold floor of his apartment sobbing, he’d pounded the tiled floor so much that his knuckles were bloody and bruised, the cut on his palm reopened and bleeding. His knees were cramped and stiff when he heard the door open and close quietly behind him and suddenly warm hands were lifting him up, pulling him into strong arms and guiding him the short distance to his couch.

“Cas.” He sobbed, allowing himself to be drawn forward into his lover’s warm embrace. “I didn’t mean it. I’m sorry.”  
  
Castiel just hushed him softly, holding him quietly as he cried himself out, gripping tightly onto the man’s jacket with his bloodstained hands as though he was afraid he’d disappear.  
  
“Are you alright Dean?” Cas asked softly, reaching a hand up to rub at Dean’s tear streaked cheek.  
  
“You came.” Dean sniffled, leaning into Cas’ hand.  
  
“Of course I did.” Cas replied, leaning back slightly. “You needed me.”  
  
They sat together on the couch until Dean had composed himself enough to get himself under some semblance of control, gingerly letting go of Cas’, now bloodstained, tan trench coat and letting the man stand and leave the room to fetch a first aid kit.  
  
Dean sat quietly as Castiel cleaned his hands up, pressing gentle kisses to the bruised skin when he was finished, eventually standing back up to put the kit away and bring Dean a glass of juice.  
  
“Do you want to talk about what happened?” Cas asked slowly, sitting down a little further away.  
  
“I’m sorry Cas.” Dean repeated, avoiding his gaze.  
  
“Dean…” Castiel started with a sigh. “The things you said to me today were very hurtful,” he raised a hand to stop Dean from interrupting continuing when Dean settled back onto the couch, “but what hurt me more wasn’t what you said, or even when you left.” He met Dean’s eye. “It was when you tried to use me to cause you harm.”  
  
Dean swallowed and averted his gaze.

“I really did like your gifts for me Dean.” Cas said softly, a gentle smile on his face. “But I will never let you use me to hurt yourself.”  
  
Dean nodded, flicking his gaze between Castiel and the floor guiltily. “I’m sorry Cas. I really am, I shouldn’t have said those things, I shouldn’t have left you there…” he sighed brokenly, “and I really shouldn’t have asked you to do that.”  
  
“I have your present.” Castiel announced, suddenly changing the subject as he tugged the golden box from his pocket, hesitantly handing it to Dean to open.  
  
Dean raised his eyes to meet Cas’, shocked to see that the other man looked almost shy. “I don’t deserve a gift after the way I acted Cas.”  
  
“Shut up Dean.” Castiel snapped, fondness creeping into his tone. “Open it.”  
  
Dean looked back down to the gift in his lap and carefully tore open the paper, revealing a plain black box. He looked up at Cas and saw nervousness written on his face as he flicked his hands in a ‘get on with it’ motion.  
  
Castiel was holding his breath when Dean pulled the lid off the box to reveal a custom black leather collar, and when Dean’s eyes filled with tears he let it out in a rush.  
  
“You don’t have to wear it all the time,” Cas blurted, “and I mean if you don’t like it I can always get you a different one, or I can just take it back and we can--”  
  
Dean cut him off by pressing their lips together suddenly. “It’s perfect Cas.” He breathed when they pulled apart, pulling it from the box and handing it to Cas with a smirk and a raised brow.  
  
He turned his back and Cas let out a relieved breath, leaning forward to press a kiss to the back of Dean’s neck before reaching over to settle the collar comfortably against his throat, kissing the cool leather again once he had it buckled.  
  
“You always know just what I need Cas.” Dean sighed, reaching up to stroke the leather reverently, only to suck in a surprised breath as Castiel surged forward and crowded him across the room, pressing him against the wall, the sight of Dean _finally_ wearing his collar too much to resist as he crushed their lips together again with a desperate moan.

Castiel tugged frantically at Dean’s clothing, tossing things carelessly across the room as they were removed. Once Dean leaned shakily against the wall, naked save for the collar, he stepped back and stripped himself, watching as Dean’s eyes tracked his every movement.

“Bedroom Dean.” He ordered gently, taking a moment to breathe and calm himself as he watched Dean scurry to obey.

When he entered the bedroom he was pleased to see that Dean had remembered his usual orders, lube was laid out on the bed and Dean knelt on all fours with his back to the doorway. His arms were lowered and his chest lay pressed against some pillows, keeping his ass high in the air and presented to Castiel like a glorious gift.  
  
Castiel swallowed and strode across the room swiftly, running a hand across Dean’s back and ass lovingly before pulling his hand back and delivering a quick slap to the rounded flesh. Dean jolted forwards in surprise, not expecting it, before he settled back into position with a low moan of Cas’ name.  
  
Castiel smacked him again, making sure to hit the same spot and he was pleased when Dean didn’t even move, not reacting beyond sucking in a deep breath and letting it out in a pleased sigh.  
  
Cas ran his hand soothingly over Dean’s skin, loving the way the man relaxed under his attentions. He brought his hand down again, the loud smack of skin on skin ringing out in the quiet apartment over and over as he alternated spanking and soothing until Dean’s ass was red and raw, his breaths coming in rushed pants and his cock hard and leaking beneath him.

“Do you like this Dean?” Castiel asked, voice low and calming, tone demanding a response.  
  
“Yes.” Dean panted, sucking in a breath as Cas gently brought his hand down to stroke his heated skin.  
  
“Good.” Castiel crooned, reaching for the lube with his other hand, popping the lid off with his thumb. “Because Dean, that’s what this is all about, making you feel good.” He pulled his hand away and coated his fingers in the cool lube, using his other hand to spread Dean open he smirked to himself, reveling in the way Dean gasped at the sudden cold when he pressed a fingertip to his hole.

Dean sighed softly as Cas gently opened him up enough to add another finger, a lewd moan escaping him as Cas crooked his fingers and he felt them lightly scrape across his prostate, his hips quivered and Cas knew he wanted to thrust backwards, but was stopping himself. “Good Dean.” He praised, scissoring his fingers and opening Dean wider. “You’re so good for me.”  
  
Castiel worked fast, working his fingers in and out of Dean until the man was loose and ready, body shaking with the need to stay still, cock leaking steadily onto the comforter. “Please.” Dean begged as Cas skirted around his prostate, barely grazing the edge. “Pleasepleaseplease.”

“What do you need Dean?” Cas asked calmly, removing his fingers and stepping to the side.  
  
“Fuck me please Sir.” Dean begged, sweat beading across his back.  
  
Castiel lubed his cock up and stepped forward silently, pushing into Dean with a low groan. Castiel tugged Dean’s hips back towards him, even as he pressed in and it wasn’t long before they were pressed together, Cas’ hips flush against Dean’s still warm ass.  
  
Dean made a quiet noise of desperation and Castiel took that as the permission it was, pulling out and slamming back into the man beneath him. He found a rhythm quickly, tugging Dean’s hips towards him even as he’d pull out, slamming forward and jolting Dean up the bed a little before tugging him back again.  
  
He’d reduced Dean to a begging mess before he relented. “Touch yourself Dean.” He growled, angling his hips on his next thrust so that Dean arched his back and cried out wordlessly.  
  
“Cas!” Dean panted. “Please. I’m close.” His hand worked over his aching cock, and he swallowed hard, trying to hold out.  
  
“Come Dean.” Castiel demanded, slamming into his prostate again.  
  
Dean came with a choked gasp, spilling out over his hand and onto the bed as Cas sped up, chasing his own release, finally coming with a shout. “Dean!”  
  
Castiel gingerly pulled out and tugged Dean onto his side away from the wet patch beneath him, he set the bottle of lube onto the dresser and curled himself up behind Dean on the bed, pressing kisses across his shoulders and neck, stroking the collar absently as he did so.  
  
“Cas?” Dean mumbled some time later, reaching up to grasp Castiel’s hand where it still stroked the smooth leather of his collar.  
  
“Yes Dean?” Cas murmured, lips still pressed to skin.  
  
“Can we maybe get cleaned up? My hand is sticky.”  
  
Castiel huffed a laugh. “Of course, stay right here and I’ll take care of you.”  
  
“I know.” Dean mumbled sleepily. “You always know what I need.”  
  
“Merry Christmas Dean.” Cas sighed once they were cleaned up and settled in the bed, both sleepy even though it was barely noon.  
  
Dean rolled towards him, pressing close as he settled down for a nap. “Merry Christmas Cas.”


End file.
